


Dragons and Doomsdays

by WinterDusk



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Camelot Era, Episode: s01e09 Excalibur, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterDusk/pseuds/WinterDusk
Summary: Uther puts down Excalibur and Merlin lets out a breath he never knew he was holding.Also known as the one where Uther dies at the start.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Dragons and Doomsdays

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may have just watched S1/E9 (Excalibur) again. This tale spun out from that. As such there may be some minor spoilers dotted throughout this work, though hopefully not too many and those that remain should be vague. There are also some... odd... pairings raised at times. Remember that this is based _very_ early on (Season One!). And don't worry, nothing truly scandalous (defined as being worthy of Gaius's eyebrow) will occur! (Probably.)

When Morgana first witnessed the immense black horse and rider crashing through the chamber’s lead-paned window, interrupting the celebrations marking Arthur's anointment as crown prince, she hadn't seen things ending like this. And by _hadn't seen_ she, for one, truly means it.

Merlin is on his knees, begging - quite literally - for Arthur to change his mind; to not banish Gaius. For herself, Morgana finds she can only lurk in the doorway watching and hoping. Not hoping that Gaius’s banishment will be overturned, but that Arthur - her new king in all but name - won't raise the stakes to execution.

Drugging the crown prince; interfering with the Knights' Code; conspiring to lead the King of Camelot to his death. Bitter charges; even if they were carried out at the behest of that same king.

It's a near thing in the end. Arthur likes being pushed no more than his father did. But Gaius has been packing while Merlin staged his heart-broken little scene and, now, before tempers can become even more frayed and poisonous, he's ready to take his leave.

He does so with few words. Indeed, his parting from Merlin is communicated just by touch; a hand which he rests on his apprentice's shoulder. To Arthur, he does utter a final apology. As for Morgana herself? Gaius spares only a look of sympathetic sorrow far too heartfelt to be appropriate when _he's_ the one banished and not she.

Arthur doesn't issue orders preventing Gaius from taking a horse, but the physician leaves on foot non-the-less.

*

It gets better after that. And worse.

Merlin appears to have stepped aside as Arthur's manservant. Morgana couldn't have said who - Merlin or Arthur - had precipitated that separation. Certainly the boy's busy now; frantically trying to fill the void left by the unexpected departure of the most learned man of medicine in the whole kingdom. Yet if feels heavier than that; more barbed.

Morgana doesn't like to ask Merlin for her potion, not when he's as troubled as he is. But she never even needs to. Every evening Gwen is there, glass vial ready mixed and in her hands.

*

The funeral took place two days after King Uther's death; Arthur's coronation the following morning.

Truly, Arthur bore more of the parlour of the grave than her guardian!

And the people grieved.

It's strange, sometimes, to realise that not everyone looked on Uther with fear mingled with some small bitterness. To realise that, to a great many of the Lower Town's folk, he had seemed a distant but protective presence; a legend fixed fast when he gave his life in banishing the wraith which haunted them all.

Morgana's not so certain about their reading of events.

Not that she’s going to tell Arthur as much. He needs _something_ to cling to in the aftermath of... everything else which has happened.

*

Evidentially Arthur agrees that he needs something else. For not one week has passed since he's crowned before he comes to visit her in her chambers. There's a strained moment when he asks Gwen to depart (most improperly!), but Morgana has known Arthur for years now; is well familiar with his strange gallant-and-then-not-again manner. She isn't afraid for her honour, and so tells Gwen to go…

…Then experiences a brief moment of wishing strongly that she hadn't. Because Arthur - bane of her childhood, arrogant know-it-all, and somehow as dear to her as her own kin – takes advantage of that privacy and _proposes_ to her.

Ygraine’s ring _is_ beautifully meaningful, but-

On second thoughts, her otherwise-empty chamber is a blessing. Turning Arthur down is never going to be graceful. Yet the partnership of duty and familiarity he’s outlining really isn’t the makings of a thrilling romance.

The privacy becomes more and more of a benefit when, as Morgana simply tries to _explain_ it all to him, Arthur finally seems to break.

She'd-

-not exactly been _waiting_ for this. The two of them aren't that kind of friends. But Arthur's frozen scowl and his parched dry eyes; they'd obviously not been going to last forever.

It’s just that she’d assumed… And yet, who else is there? Not Francis or Reynard's sons; bullies and shallow as they are. Such a shame that they'd apparently parted ways with Arthur; and just before his ascension at that!

Maybe Leon?

Evidently not.

Thus it is that, on the day of his declaration, Morgana _does_ end up with Arthur in her arms. Though not for the usual reasons. Rather he's curled in on himself, face to her shoulder, body almost crushed inwards to be small enough to be held by her.

"I don't know what to do." His tears soak into the thin silks of her gown.

She strokes his hair, but cannot find anything to say.

*

Uther had always been... rather absolute. Not that a king shouldn't, but...

He'd never seemed to consider that maybe he needed to hand over any aspect of control to anyone else.

It caused trouble.

Her father; dead on a battlefield he couldn't command.

Herself; never quite able to help the hungry and their children as she wished.

Arthur; floundering now, when he should be certain.

Of course, if one wanted to be generous, then they could claim that Uther had been trying. He'd crowned his son as his heir, after all, hadn't he? And his son was still young. _Uther_ had still been young _enough_. There had been time.

Right up until there wasn't.

But Morgana doesn't need to be generous to _him_.

*

She dreams. Still. Always.

She sees Merlin holding out a sword; burnishing it in flame. She sees him throw it away; loosing the blade to arch high over mirrored waters.

She doesn't see why.

She also doesn't see what causes Merlin and Arthur to bury the proverbial hatchet, though it's clear as day from night when they do. It's not that Arthur's calmer, or even particularly happier, and yet...

Plus, now that George is relegated to his former duties, Arthur's shirts are never quite so neatly tied, his boots often lack in polish, he always seems to be short of one thing or another that Merlin really should have provided for him.

If Gwen were ever to neglect her duties as Merlin does...

Then Morgana catches Arthur laughing. He's got a scowling Merlin in a headlock and they're... Well, ‘horseplay’ would imply that Merlin had any chance of throwing his own weight around and yet-

When Arthur's called away to the Council Camber, he seems lighter.

After a moment wherein Merlin straightens his own tunic, scuttering away under his breath despite the slight smile on his lips, Merlin follows him.

*

Merlin follows Arthur _everywhere_ , to the point where it’s no small miracle that no one ever seems to stay sick. It leaves Morgana's so busy being convinced that maybe she should be seeing something there that she almost misses what _is_ there.

The flash of gold across her dreams is-

For a moment, on waking, Morgana seriously, utterly, considers throttling Merlin. He'd _lied_ to her when she'd come to him with the Druid boy and-

But Merlin had looked so conflicted. It's not like Morgana doesn't know how that feels.

So she doesn't march down to the physician’s rooms to confront Merlin. And she doesn't march off to Arthur with her suspicions. Instead she sits in her rooms, bushing her hair and thinking about just how much better a job of ruling and watching over this kingdom she could do than her King and his Council.

*

Arthur nearly dies.

Arthur nearly dies, and her dreams hadn't even whispered to her about it.

The first Morgana knows of anything is when Gwen comes hurtling into her room babbling about Arthur and Merlin and-

Morgana runs to the physician’s chambers and-

Even now it’s a shock to not see Gaius there. A shock compounded because she'd expected to see _Arthur_ laid out on the cot, but instead it's the commoner, Lancelot, face grey and vacant.

Arthur doesn't even look injured, Morgana thinks, her indignation boiling over when he just turns and leaves the room. Morgana stalks after him, determined to get to the root of things. However, when she tries to get Arthur to stop, he won’t. He doesn’t so much as pause until he reaches the Council Camber and then-

"If you're going to haunt me, Morgana, you may as well sit!"

It's the most terrifying meeting she's never realised she wanted to miss. Because in-between making a completely without precedent decision that he’s going to start knighting commoners, Arthur makes it clear that Caerleon, their ally, are looking to march on Camelot. That their king, Caerleon, has been in Camelot’s woods; that their queen, Annis, is rumoured to be amassing an army.

The councillors tell Arthur he has to be strong, which has got to be the most ridiculous comment Morgana's ever heard. Arthur's always been brutally controlled on the battlefield. Of all the areas she'd worry over his rule - feeding the poor; arranging stores against emergency; refraining from offending visiting dignitaries - _this_ isn't one.

"Morgana." She looks up, but Arthur's not looking at her. Rather he's playing with his mother's ring and Morgana has a dreadful premonition that he's going to ask her to marry him, again, here, in public.

Instead, he says something even worse: "If I fall, she's my heir. Follow her as you would me."

_Don't you dare die, Arthur Pendragon!_ But the words choke in her throat.

*

When Arthur returns to Camelot weary but victorious; when he relieves Morgana from her brief but actually rather enjoyed regency; he looks... grounded.

There's no other word for it.

It's as if, going to face down the most monumental of insults and threats rolled up into one has left him, rather than shattered, confident.

And then she hears the story of how they haven't lost a single man.

Although Morgana might never fully forgive Arthur for taking a gamble which could have left _her_ to rule over a dangerously diminished Camelot, it's a tale spectacular enough that she almost forgives him. Right up until she realises that she’s now been stuck with arranging a feast to celebrate their renewed allies when they arrive _the next day!_

*

Lancelot is not getting better.

Morgana knows this mostly because her maid is more often at _his_ side than hers. Is this how it begins? Morgana's well aware that maids have their own lives and that those lives, do, at times, take them from their mistresses. Sometimes for good.

But with Uther gone...

She tells herself that she'd just wondering how she'd best approach asking Arthur about retaining a new maid, but it's a lie. She's starting to wonder just how long she can expect to remain here, guest to a man she won't marry, before he gets it into his mind that - if she won't be the queen of the castle - then maybe she should leave that castle all together.

Say what one would for Uther; her guardian had never expressed interested in pushing her to wed.

*

The two strangers arrive, one after another. And, while the discovery of a sister is a delight, Morgana can only feel relieved that Arthur's uncle left crawling out of the woodwork to now, rather than turning up a month earlier. It's hard to put her finger on what it is, exactly, about the man. But she's glad that Arthur seems to have shored up enough confidence from _somewhere_ so as to not listen to the man's words too keenly.

Morgana resolves to keep a watch on their relationship non-the-less.

When it’s brought to Arthur’s attention that Morgause is Morgana's sister, he immediately offers her rooms in the castle. Morgause, who has spent the last few days explaining to Morgana just how welcome she would be to join _Morgause_ , looks startled. More than startled. She looks put out.

While Morgause’s offer had left Morgana relieved to find out she wasn't about to be homeless and without resources should Arthur cast her out, she's only just met this woman. Living with an unknown sister doesn't seem that much more reliable than living with an unknown husband. Better by far to stay with the prat that she knows.

So she tells Morgause how beautiful the towers look in the light of a winter’s dawn and how lively the festival dances can be, but isn't surprised when the other woman will not linger. The same cannot be said for Arthur. But then, men always tend to forget how independent women can be.

*

It's a quiet night when Morgana wakes _knowing_ that everything is suddenly in the hands of doom.

She runs, and is only slightly startled to find her feet carrying her to the physician's quarters. The door's already open, so there's no need for a dramatic entrance and-

Arthur.

Merlin.

Lancelot.

The room is messy, but not from any recent violence. Rather the simple and apparently immutable truth of the matter is that Merlin remains incapable of maintaining order in any given space unless he is literally instructed, item-by-item, to do so.

No, that's not what's out of place. It's that Lancelot is sitting up; alert and well and-

Arthur looks the opposite.

Clearly, while Morgana has missed Merlin's golden eyes, Camelot's king has not.

_Oh gods! But she cannot watch another burning!_

Of Merlin, too! Whom Arthur is so fond of and for whom ordering the pyre must surely crush something deep within him.

_Oh gods! Don’t make him into another Uther!_

And then-

-just like-

-nothing that makes any sense at all:

"Well. That explains how you've been fulfilling Gaius's duties at least." Arthur stands up. Brushes past Morgana where she's clinging to the doorway. Pauses.

Turns back to Merlin.

_No, no, no. Just let this be!_

Opens his mouth. Closes it.

Opens it again. "Any more secrets?"

Merlin shakes his head, which seems to be enough for Arthur who turns and leaves.

To Morgana it looks like Merlin's lying.

*

The next few days are... tense. For Morgana, at least. The wider reaches of Camelot are non-the-wiser that their new boy-king has found a sorcerer in his household.

If Morgana hadn't seen it herself, she'd doubt that, too.

It's not that Arthur's treating Merlin as per usual. Quite the opposite; for once again the two are remarkably separate.

But there's been no declaration of bloody retribution either.

*

The day Morgana walks into the Council Chambers (fully intending to fulfil her new role as adviser to the crown by reporting on setting up a small alms house) and Arthur stands up to say, "I want the laws on magic overhauled", is the _only_ day she actually swoons.

It's not like the stories have it be. She doesn't even end up on the ground. It's just that her knees won't work, and her head is filled with a pounding roar, and her gaze doesn't seem capable of focussing on anything much at all.

She comes back to herself sitting on a chair that someone must have hastily dragged halfway across the camber, and to Arthur on his knees before her.

As with everything to do with Arthur, such moments suit him infinitely better when he's not trying to propose to her in them.

He's worried - of course he is - but when she's herself again, he rolls his eyes at her and offers a half-hearted insult. Something within her unclenches, a relief which extends far past the magical law review. It looks like Arthur’s finally remembering that they've always been better playing at siblings than lord and lady of the castle.

*

The fact that she's apparently off Arthur's marry-and-make-my-queen list gives Morgana the final stitch of confidence she needs a few nights later. Pulling her warm fur stole closer, Morgana passes Gwen, sleeping on a small cot in the room's corner. Her maid’s holding a handkerchief halfway embroidered with what looks suspiciously like an 'L'.

Morgana steps out into the hallway.

The corridors don’t give her much distance in which to reconsider her choices. Indeed, she's about to enter Arthur's room - is ready to confess all - when she realises that she can hear voices on the other side.

Merlin. He's crying.

Eavesdropping isn't becoming of a lady, but nor is being kept in ignorance. Morgana presses her ear to the wood, ignoring the side-eyed looks from the guards stationed there. (If Arthur ever asks them to report any such odd behaviour, then it will be the first time, and she'll deal with that as and when it arises.)

Little enough of what Merlin's saying carries, and what little carries doesn't make sense. Something about a sword and a dragon. About coins and prophesy. Uther’s name comes up.

He really _is_ spending a lot of time apologising.

If Arthur's already got this to deal with, then maybe it's not the night for her confession after all.

*

The next morning Morgana wakes to see Gwen already sewing. She asks what Gwen’s working on more out of courtesy than curiosity and-

That's how Morgana finds out that, apparently, Merlin is going to be Court Sorcerer of Camelot: because Arthur has decided that Gwen needs to make Merlin a nicer tunic.

Is it petty to feel ever-so-slightly offended that _she's_ not been offered the post when she hasn't even told Arthur she's got magic yet?

*

When Morgana next sees Arthur, it's dinnertime. It's also obvious that he's not entirely happy. His lips are thin and he holds his shoulders too tightly.

Clearly the argument with Merlin, despite ending in a rather meteoric advancement for the boy, has left a lingering scar behind it.

"Did you hear?" Arthur asks, as she sits besides him. There're two empty chairs on Arthur's far side. Agravaine’s been relegated from the high table. Morgana wonders who's visiting.

After offering appropriate questions, Morgana gets what may or may not be the whole story from Arthur. Merlin _had_ held another secret. (Only one? From what she heard the night before, that seems… on the low side. Still-) Apparently Uther could have lived, if Arthur had fought the black knight. There had even been a magical sword forged in preparation.

“If only…” Grief lies on thickly Arthur; a wound freshly torn open. In deference to that (and also because Uther is dead and gone) Morgana doesn't say what she thinks. Instead she gently squeezes Arthur's hand and then-

He’s not wearing his ring.

Frantically realising that she's _holding Arthur’s hand_ and that... She _thought_ he'd stopped looking to propose to her; not when he could be free to follow his heart and marry as he wishes and-

Because Morgana's rather flustered, and also because she wants to nip any alternative conversations in the bud, she says, "I have magic, too."

Arthur blinks, slow and thoughtful. When his eyes open again, they are calm and accepting. "Oh." That's all he says about it and she knows that she'll remember that forever.

That, and the fact that he doesn't pull his hand from hers in disgust.

*

It's late into the meal when Merlin arrives. He's not wearing his new clothes because even Gwen can't finish items quite _that_ quickly, but it's clear that he's radiantly happy.

As he sits as travel-worn Gaius down in one of the seats besides Arthur, Morgana thinks that the cause of Merlin’s happiness must be clear.

Then Merlin sits next to Arthur and-

_Oh._

She'd forgotten how beautiful Arthur could be when he smiles.

Somehow watching Arthur watch Merlin makes it easier for Morgana to commiserate with Arthur that evening. To agree that it was _such_ a shame that his father had died. That, if only Uther had survived, then everything would have been _even_ better.

Ygraine's ring really does suit Merlin's hand.


End file.
